Page 19 of The Pass Protection
“Not yet. I saw she texted me a little bit ago, but I’ve been in back-to-back classes.”
“How are you settling in?”
“I really like it here. I can see why you and Grant decided to make this university your home.”
“Good, I’m glad you’re liking it too. How’s the roommate situation?” He grumbles the last part of that question. The guys told me he’s been giving them extra shit at practice. It’s harmless, but he’s making it a point to ensure they’re on their best behavior. Which is absurd considering the three I’m living with are probably the best three on the team, excluding Grant.
“Dad, everything is fine.”
“Honey, I love you, but you’re a terrible liar.” He squeezes my shoulder as we walk out of the Union and follow the sidewalk leading us to the parking lot.
“I mean with the guys. The roommate situation is good, and everything else will work itself out. I promise. A girl needs a little room to breathe between you and Grant and now the guys.”
“As long as you promise to come to one of us if you really do need some help. No matter how old you are, I’ll always be here for you, Bret.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Okay, good. Now that we have that settled, I want to talk to you about this weekend.”
Quirking a brow, I look up at him. “I want you to come with the team to Ohio. Your mother is flying with us, and now that you’re here, I want you to join us, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t. Plus, we have a surprise for the team.”
“Spill!”
He chuckles. “Not a chance. You live with my team—ew, I didn’t like that coming out of my mouth—but no, I can’t risk them finding out. Not until we land in Ohio.”
“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. I didn’t want to know anyway.”
“Liar. Seriously, you would think years of teenage angst would have made you a better liar.”
“What can I say? I hate lying to my old man.”
He gasps, and it’s my turn to chuckle. “Who are you calling old?”
“I mean, you are looking a little gray, Dad.”
“It’s stress from dealing with two children plus an additional hundred and fifty college kids who act more like children than the adults they’re supposed to be.”
“Whatever you say, Dad.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my fob. The Jeep’s headlights blink as the doors unlock.
Before I have a chance to open my driver’s side door, I rotate until I’m pulling my dad in for a giant hug. His arms instinctively wrap around me as I’m smashed into his front. Since our height isn’t that far off, my nose smashes into the crook of his neck, where I inhale his sweet, citrusy scent from the Old Spice aftershave he’s used all my life. He squeezes me tight before pulling away.
“I love you, Bretster.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
Dad reaches past me and opens the door. He waits as I toss my backpack into the back seat before climbing inside. Sitting my sub on the passenger seat and my bottle of Coke in the cup holder, I start the engine.
“Spalding still treating you well? You know I can always get you a new one.”
I gasp. “Don’t speak such cruel things. Spalding is perfect.”
I’ve had this basketball since my freshman year of high school. It’s one my dad bought me for my birthday right before I started playing high school ball, where I was one of three freshmen to make varsity. This basketball has seen all the hours in the gym where I’ve worked my butt off to perfect my jump shot and where I’d shoot free throw after free throw until I couldn’t lift my arms. I can’t imagine heading to the gym without my trusty sidekick.
The Bluetooth connection activates, and the last song I listened to starts blaring from my speakers, interrupting my train of thought and startling me back into the present.
